The Doctor's Darker Thoughts
by Rachel2
Summary: The Cyberman left the Doctor's thoughts and feelings toward Clara fresh in his mind. The following Wednesday he enters her home and wakes her late one evening. What's the buzz in Clara's bedroom? Takes place at the end of Nightmare in Silver. Smut/love. Doctor/Clara - Whoffle!
1. Chapter 1 : What's the Buzz?

FIRST DOCTOR WHO SMUT! Reviews/feedback please! :) Follow/Favorite! I'm also working on a longer piece: I Made the Fish (Doctor/Clara)

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The Doctor pondered and smiled as he looked into Clara's eyes with wonder. Clara was once again very appreciative for his rescue, but particularly of Angie and Artie. His eyes combed over her beautiful features, and stopped at her mouth. She truly has a perfect mouth and body—impossible mouth and body. The Doctor's darker thoughts were fresh in his mind too. He would have to thank and damn Mr. Clever for that.

"Goodnight." Clara sighed sincerely. She stepped away from his side, the Doctor's eyes traveled with the pace of her tight mini skirt. He smiled as she strode towards the door. "See you next Wednesday!"

The Doctor grimaced at the thought of not being with a companion for a whole week. Chaos could befall the planet. What if Cybermen returned in the night and he wasn't there?

"Well, a—a Wednesday definitely. Next Wednesday, or last Wednesday," His pulse quickened as she spun around to show her innocent smile. His childish stammering amused her. "One of the Wednesdays…" The door shut and he relaxed, suddenly serious. "Impossible girl." He shook his head in disbelief. "A mystery, wrapped in an enigma, squeezed into a skirt that is just a little too…tight."

Visions of Clara in the chess room came across his mind. Mr. Clever knew his feelings, his dark feelings—the ones that no one else should know about—not even himself. Clara's too tight skirt didn't make light of the situation any. He thought about placing his hands firmly on her waist, among other places. He imagined that he would find her being playful with the Tardis. She'd be pressing buttons on her mainframe, curious yet nervous, she was cute while nervous. He imagined that without doubt in his mind he came up the metal stairs swift and proud of his devious intentions. Without announcing himself and his hands planted firmly on her waist he would wrap himself around her. He knew Clara would stiffen her body at first—most humans did, but soon she'd relax. He would relish at the warmth of her entire body pressed against him. As she would crane her neck back to gaze at him, her breath would graze his earlobe and send shivers down his spine.

A puff of steam rolled from the top of the Tardis and distracted his thoughts—probably for the best. He stood straight and wrinkled his face up. "What are you?" He let out a baffled huff before he cranked a handle down, and set the Tardis into action.

* * *

The Doctor sat in his tinker room filled with trinkets, tools, and taffy. He nibbled an orange marmalade piece as he finished up the last touches on his new sonic app. The app would hopefully disassemble a Cyberman at the point and press of a button.

"Damnit." He cursed and let out an exasperated sigh. The Doctor shook his head, spit out the candy and pushed his tools aside, frustrated. "What am I thinking?" He threw his head back in utter confusion. He cocked his head to the left and read the clock on the wall upside down. It was just two minutes past midnight, the following Wednesday.

The Doctor grabbed at his stomach. The swell of anxiety that had built up in what felt like hours to him, and a week for Clara was astronomical. He made sure to pay attention to her human week. Nothing adventurous or usual, she was teaching three days a week—at home nanny for the rest of the week. No aliens, or natural disasters to speak of, how boring. The candy in his stomach poked and prodded at him. It was time to go for a walk.

* * *

The midnight air was cool. Cars could be heard in the distance, the neighborhood was quiet, and far too peaceful. How did humans tolerate such slow progression of time?

He pointed his sonic at the front door and examined the upstairs window where Clara slept. The latch clicked and he winced as the door creaked open. Waking her or the children was one thing, but having to explain his presence to Artie and Angie's father was less than desirable. He held his breath as he trotted up the stairwell and down the hallway to the left. No squeaky floorboards, thankfully.

"Clara?" He whispered outside her door. He ran his hands through his messy hair—he needed a shower he noted. Embarrassed, he straightened his bowtie. With bated breath he tapped lightly with his fingers against the door and then twisted the handle on the cast-iron knob. Mr. Clever, who had invaded his mind, would grab Clara and throw her against the closest wall moments after she answered the door. She would try to cry out with surprise, but he'd stifle her voice with a teeth-clanking kiss before she would get the chance to. With passion and pent up frustration, he would greedily dance his tongue across her lips into her mouth. With a grin he'd pull back and listen as her cry turned into a moan. The Doctor closed his eyes and shook his head. He _wasn't_ Mr. Clever.

With as much silence as an old door would allow, he slipped into her bedroom undetected by anyone—Clara included. He looked around her room, a desk with a computer and a closet left open with dresses and more skirts. Something buzzed. He let out a puff of startled air, and searched himself. Was his sonic malfunctioning?

"Ohh, Doctor." Clara whispered. The blankets and sheets on Clara's bed shifted. He watched as she arched under the blankets like a bridge, her hips moved up and down like the waves of an ocean.

Oh, Doctor? Had she noticed him? He hid in the corner by her opened computer, safe in the shadows by her bathroom closet. Where was that sound coming from? He emptied another pocket—a jamie dodger.

"Ahhh…" Her mouth parted and she moaned. The Doctor's face flushed at the inappropriate nature of the sound. Something buzzed again. He realized it was Clara.

Mr. Clever wanted to rip the blankets off and show her body to him. He'd grab her arms and hold them close up above her head. His mouth would venture to her neck and suckle her delicate skin. He'd hike up her nightgown, and relish in the sound of her passionate scream as he plunged himself inside of her. The Doctor pursed his lips and brought his hands down to his trousers and covered himself.

"Doctor—haaa." Clara gasped as she touched herself. The Doctor felt himself swell as her hips bucked violently beneath the blanket. "Please, Doctor." The plea sent him over the edge. The Doctor's eyes closed slowly, the lids heavy with lust. He licked his lips, pushed the guilt aside as he continued to gaze at the very private moment.

Lust aside, the Doctor still fidgeted, nervous like a teenage boy with dirty pictures. He took it upon himself to blame Mr. Clever for all of this. Blame aside, his hands brushed against his growing member, and he hated to admit how amazing it felt.

As he stroked himself, the Doctor wondered how she would feel against his hands. He wanted to bring her to orgasm with the touch of his hand and kiss of his mouth first. Clara threw back the comforter that lay across her bed and worked at herself a little harder. She panted, her hips bucked violently beneath the sheets.

The Doctor undid the buttons of his pants and made a mental note to create holographic clothes. He stroked himself to the rhythm of her thrusts. Clara's buzz was louder now and followed a pattern.

"Doctor!" She let out a hushed cry.

Clara, he mouthed silently and bucked his pelvis forward. His left hand reached back for balance, and pressed against the keyboard of her laptop. The computer screen awoke and lit up like the sun. The room fell still. Clara didn't move, nor did the Doctor. There was only the buzz between Clara's thighs.


	2. Chapter 2 : The Who?

**PART 2**

Thank you for the reviews. I was always going to update this, but I wasn't sure when I would get around to it so I placed it as a one-shot. You can thank the bad winter weather for part two and soon part three. I've had a few extra snow days where we had to cancel filming, and because of the poor roads I couldn't make it over to my love's place. Any feedback and/or suggestions are always appreciated.

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The tension was unbearable. He wanted to die—no regeneration, just death. The Doctor tucked himself quietly back in his trousers and shuffled his feet away from the glow of Clara's computer screen. With careful steps, he made his way into the bathroom doorway.

"Angie, Artie?" Clara sat up and squinted, blinded by the fluorescent glow. Her hair fell around her face, pieces tangled and twisted. She fiddled under the covers until the buzz stopped. "Close your eyes, I need to grab my robe." Clara pulled back the covers and darted to the bedroom door. Her short, nude colored slip glistened against the light. The color only aided to his cause. He could imagine her nude figure—thanks primarily to Mr. Clever. He spent his time interacting with Clara across the chess table while imaging himself doing only various sexual things to her. He shook his head and stomped his foot quietly in protest. He pointed at himself and frowned.

"No!" He mouthed silently to his lower half.

The bedroom door creaked open. The Doctor winced. He should have announced himself to her from the start, that's what he, the Doctor would have done, right? If the week hadn't been so agonizing, he would have pounded on the door playfully—not caring if he awoke the children. He walked further into the bathroom in search for a place to hide. He wished his screwdriver offered teleportation. He'd send himself back to the Tardis and disappear, never seen by Clara again. He immediately took back the thought though. His infatuation advised against it.

He silently wished a Dalek would strike him down. That didn't sound like a half bad way to go right about now. How stupid of him not to close and lock that door? The buzzing sound in her bed was the first of too many unsettling distractions. By Clara's prolonged silence he knew she had noticed the door by now.

"Hello?" Clara mumbled and turned on the bedroom light. She stood beside her bed and looked around the room. He didn't dare breathe. She closed the computer and with a huff she removed her robe and let it fall to the floor.

"Clara!" The Doctor playfully slid into view. He clenched his teeth and waved his arms about playfully. He hadn't noticed she had undressed again. "Clara..." He said a more suggestively as he gawked.

"Wha-Doctor!?" Clara yelped. He had surprised her, like a deer in headlights. As she recovered, her face flushed tomato red. She whirled around and stared at her bed. Sticking out from the sheets were a blue vibrator. "How long have you been in here?" She bent down and grabbed her robe. She pulled the sheets over the vibrator to hide it.

"Oh—ahh—not long. It's Wednesday."

"Wednesday?" She hesitated until the dots connected and she remembered their meet up. She brushed his comment aside. "No, when did you let yourself in?"

"While you were mastur—" The Doctor slapped his hand across his mouth.

"Doctor!" Clara darted to the other side of her bed, horrified.

"Sleeping! The Master!" The Doctor pointed at her with pride for his quick save.

"The who?"

"Never mind that—what a lovely bathroom you have!" He waved his screwdriver about and did his best to change the topic. He turned on the bathroom light.

"Do you know how late it is, Doctor?"

"The tiles, lovely color—remodel, addition, former maids quarters?" He analyzed the pink and green tiles with his sonic.

Clara had placed her robe back on. She leaned against the doorway with her arms crossed, head cocked, and an annoyed expression plastered across her beautiful face.

"Mind if I get back to sleep?"

She had hardly been asleep. He stopped his analysis and nodded in defeat. "I should have waited until morning." He arched forward awkwardly to hide his erection. He lowered his head and held back the urge to grab her and kiss her like he had Grace Holloway in California. Unlike Grace, he wanted to feel all of Clara.

Clara looked at him with empathy. He questioned if he'd die from a leap out of her bedroom window to the pavement below. He had his doubts.

"Doctor." She stepped forward, and shook her head. "You can come back in the morning." He could feel the warmth of her body close to him. She leaned up and straightened his bow tie and removed a piece of lint from his shoulder. He held his breath as she rolled up the balls of her feet and leaned forward to kiss him on the cheek goodnight.

He turned and captured her lips against his own. The kiss was brief. Guilt washed over and away—replaced with passion and need. He studied Clara to gauge his options. He anticipated possibly being slapped, or punched—even kneed.

"Clara." He exhaled—his voice barely more than a whisper and thick with lust. This was cruel of him to do this, but he had no more fight for resistance. Mr. Clever or his own dark thoughts—this was his decision and his actions.

His heavy eyes traveled down the side of her body and stopped at the opening in her robe that revealed the base of her slip. He reached his hand out and touched her waist. He stared at the trim of cream lace against her milky skin.

"Doctor?" Her face flushed. That was not a goodnight kiss.

"Did I do alright?" He jutted her jaw out as he pondered for a moment. He shamelessly avoided her eye contact. The kiss—while brief—intentional, not overly forceful, but meaningful. If he had calculated the angle and duration—based on her arousal, confusion, and the hopeful dash that she had already been imagining him between her thighs—yes, he had kissed her appropriately.

"Is this alright?" Clara fumbled. She moved her hands back and forth between the two of them. With his nod of approval, her arms reached up and her fingers wove and tangled into his hair. She pulled his head down and kissed him with passion. He wiggled at first, still trying to hide his erection from her. He let his screwdriver fall into the ceramic sink bowl. She took the kiss deeper as he opened his mouth to let out an exasperated grunt.

She stepped forward and arched her body forward. His arms wrapped around her back and pulled her close. She sighed and pressed her hips against his pelvis. There was no more hiding it. He groaned with desire and pulled down one strap from her slip. To his dismay she pulled back and examined him for a moment. He choked back the embarrassment and pressed his back against the sink like an animal trapped in a corner.

"You came into my bedroom and watched me?" She looked at him, wary again. "Were you? You—" She pointed.

"Well, Mr. Clever—"

"Are you that cyber-thing?" Clara yelped and darted into the bedroom and grabbed hold of a baseball bat. She pointed it at him. "Get out, or—or I'll hit you!"

"No! Clara—I've just had a lot of…thoughts."

"A large, singular thought." She pointed the bat at his hard on.

"I'm not Mr. Clever."

"Prove it." She scowled.

"I won't tell you how I feel about you, even after tonight." He shrugged and glanced down at his leather shoes. He tapped them together like Dorothy in Wizard of Oz.

She let out a frustrated huff, still unsure.

"Show me," she said after a moment. "Prove that you don't have any of that metal on your body."

"Metal Cybermen parts?" He barked, "Clara, it's more like titanium alloy than metal and the cybermen would only go after my brain—"

"Prove it." She cut him off and placed the bat on the bed. She lifted the strap on her slip. He really should have just waited until morning.

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Part 3 on the way! :)


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